Sapphire and Onyx
by moray
Summary: [Complete] A series of Havoc-centric drabbles. Includes angst, humor, romance, etc. It all depends on what chapter you read. Includes RoyHavoc (and HavocLiza) Spoilers for ep. 25 on, be warned!
1. Desire

**Desire**

From Roy Mustang's personal, stilted point-of-view, Sergeant Jean Havoc was a loudmouthed, obnoxious, feckless, rule-breaking, highly opinionated, annoying sonofabitch. Who smoked. Like a chimney.

The Sergeant was undeniably good at his job, one of the best Roy had ever seen. But something just rubbed him the wrong way.

Maybe it was careless, completely frivolous attitude the man took about his personal safety. Maybe it was the condescending attitude the man took towards military brass. Maybe it was that easy strength that the man took for granted. Maybe it was the fierce anger that the man had had in his blue eyes when a patrol went horribly, horribly wrong and an entire platoon was lost and that had smoldered quietly ever since.

Maybe it was the fact that the man had taken on an entire company of Ishbar insurgents with just ten men _and won_

Or maybe it was simply the fact that Roy felt unquestionably attracted to him.


	2. Dream

**Dream**

Havoc was back home, lazing comfortably in the sun, the horses shambling quietly around their field. One steel-grey stallion, a champion steeplechaser, nuzzled his side, searching his pockets.

"Easy, Cinderblock," Havoc said sleepily, fishing an apple out of his worn workpants. "These aren't all for you, y'know... leave some for Templar..."

The horse delicately took the apple from his hand, crunching it with every sign of enjoyment. After finishing the apple, Cinderblock nudged his bare chest impatiently.

"Nn?"

"Wake up, sleepyhead," Roy murmured playfully into his ear.


	3. Duel

**Duel**

"Hawkeye could beat the crap out of me with small arms," Havoc said, scowling down at his paperwork. "But I'm better with a rifle than she is."

"Why don't you two show me?" Ed pursued. "I want to _see _who's better."

"Kid, why the hell do you care?"

"You know what they say, seeing is believing."

"Hmph. With you, there's always an ulterior motive."

Ed grinned. "Well, with a mentor like the Colonel, I probably do."

Havoc had to concede that one.


	4. Dice

**Dice**

Havoc grinned smugly. "I win. Again."

Farman used several unprintable words in his opinion of Havoc, and none of them were very complementary.

Ed poked his head curiously around the door. "What's up with him?" he asked, pointed to the grey-haired man.

"Lady Luck has a pretty low opinion of him," Havoc said, still grinning.

"Huh?"

"I'm losing!" Farman wailed. "It's always like this! Havoc can gamble all of us under the table without losing a penny!"

Ed cocked his head. "Can I play?"

Havoc offered the pair of dice with a challenge in his eye. "If you think you have a snowflake's chance in hell, go for it."


	5. Darling

**Darling**

"Babysitting?!" Havoc yelped, eyes wide in disbelief. "Hughes are you nuts?! Me, babysitting Alicia?!"

"Oh, I think it would be cute," Roy remarked from the corner, clearly amused.

"Everyone else is doing something tonight. You're the only one that's not got much of a social life," Hughes pointed out tactlessly, but truthfully.

Havoc's eye twitched. "I'd have a girlfriend, except that sex-obsessed freak of alchemy over there keeps stealing mine!" he yelled.

Hughes' eyes twinkled as Roy succumbed to a fit of the giggles. "As true as that may be, Jean, you're still not busy tonight," Maes pointed out reasonably.

Havoc grumbled something foul and uncomplimentary about the man, prompting even more snickers from Roy.

"I'll come by after you put Alicia to bed," Roy offered, and suddenly Havoc didn't mind letting Alicia having free run of his apartment for a night.


	6. Devil

**Devil**

They were all in shock, Roy most of all. The news that Hughes was dead had hit the entire staff too hard. Havoc sat silently as his desk, still working. He knew that it was the only way that he could keep himself in one piece.

The cigarette smoked sullenly in his ashtray, a stick of tobacco incense lit in honor of the dead.

In a non sequitur that made his head hurt and that lump in his chest/throat tighten ominously, he remembered the military funeral for the man was in less than a week. Then he would have to scrape Roy up from the miserable heap that he had collapsed permanently into and force the man to go.

The devil of it all was that neither of them wanted to see Maes put into the ground with hollow mouth-honor from the Führer. Neither of them wanted to go.

None of them wanted to go.


	7. Duty

**Duty**

Havoc glanced warily over at Roy. They were on lunchbreak, and had just happened to choose the same café to grab food at. Roy was sullen and quiet, his black eyes even more unreadable than usual.

Deciding to preserve his skin and his sanity, Havoc ambled out into the sunshine, searching for a comfortable spot of grass in the public park across the street. He didn't want to deal with a zombie.

Of course, Roy just had to follow him, moving stiffly after him and finding a patch of grass close to his. Havoc must have thrown a grumpy, accusing glare of his way because Roy twitched and stared guiltily. Suddenly Havoc realized that there was a deeper issue here, and he had just forced it.

"It's my duty," Roy said in a dead tone.

"Is it your duty to give up on the dream you and Maes had?" Havoc retorted bitterly. "Are you just going to give up on the dream we all have for you?!"


	8. Darkness

**Darkness**

A clap of lightning and a darkness like velvet. Rain pattered onto the roof, more lightning flashing through the dark.

Havoc hid deeper into his bed, whimpering. He loved rain, but hated thunderstorms. They brought back memories, nightmares, sheer panic, and most of all, the searing anger he had felt each time a man had died. Every burst of thunder sounded like an explosion, the threat of rubble and shrapnel raining down on him seemingly very real.

But comforting arms twined around him, a gentle voice gently reassured him that everything would be all right, they were in bed together without the threat of a night patrol. The warm scent of sandalwood and incense wrapped around him, lulled him into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.


	9. Delicious

**Delicious**

Havoc lounged lazily on his bed, a book on his lap and nominally smoking a cigarette. Roy was somewhere out in the living room, either picking through Havoc's formidable collection of plays and history books or poking through other things.

"Jean?" Roy said quietly from the door.

"I'm here," he said, quirking a grin.

"No, I wanted to see if you were awake."

"I haven't fallen asleep on you yet, have I?"

"True enough." Roy slid onto the bed, pushing the heavy book away. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine. Why do you ask? I haven't done anything –"

"That's just it. You're so cold."

Havoc's grin turned full, generous, and mischevious. "So warm me up. Think of it as equivalent trade for all the times I pulled you out of the dumps."

Roy pinched out the cigarette. "Oh, I'm being selfish now," he said, smirking. "You taste too good for me to just let you go..."

Their kiss was warm, wet, and breathless.


	10. Distance

**Distance**

Havoc ignored Mustang as soon as he entered the office. Mustang was obviously surprised and hurt. Havoc supposed that he had thought that last night was a joke. But Havoc had been deadly serious. He wasn't willing to jeopardize Mustang's career for such a stupid thing.

Mustang's mask settled firmly into place, his features hardening into indifference. Which was just how it should be. Havoc admitted somewhere inside that it hurt, but it was better this way. He wouldn't risk Mustang getting blackmailed because of a stupid choice on Havoc's part.

But damn, it still hurt.


	11. Durability

**Durability**

"Lieutenant Havoc, I need you to stay after tonight. You're the only one that can handle this mess of a filing system."

Havoc looked up at Mustang. "Yessir." No emotion, an army automaton following orders. If Mustang was annoyed, he didn't show it.

"You will address me as 'Colonel', Lieutenant."

All right, he was annoyed. Score one for Havoc!

Mustang drifted disconsolately behind him for the remainder of the day, highly reminiscent of a lost puppy. Even after he had been working on the file system, Mustang still wafted.

Havoc finally lost his temper, whirling around and snapping, "What is _wrong_ with you?!"

Mustang started guiltily. "Nothing, Lieutenant."

"I'm sure." It was his turn to jump when he felt Mustang's arms around his shoulders.

"I think it's okay if the superior officer says 'yes'," Roy murmured into his ear.


	12. Darts

**Darts**

"Come on, Roy," Havoc prompted. "Be a good birthday boy!"

"No, I won't," the dark haired man said grumpily. "I still have my pride..."

"Think of it as target practice, then. Come on! You're disappointing your party."

"Who cares?" Roy's hand slipped down Havoc's thigh. "I think there's only one person here that I don't want to disappoint..."


	13. December

**December**

The clock struck twelve, and the room was suddenly an orgy of kisses, hugs and laughter. Havoc was mobbed by happily drunk girls, each giggling about hugging such a handsome, rugged man.

Havoc knew that Roy had set this up, and promptly resolved to make the man's life hell that night. Morning. Whatever.

Then he and Roy were face to face, and if anyone noticed that their kiss was longer and deeper than anyone else's they'd just put it down to the two men being drunk.


	14. Destiny

**Destiny**

"It can't be helped," Roy said brusquely. "Liza and I will be going after Bradley –"

"If what the Elric brothers said is true, then you're going to need backup," Havoc repeated stubbornly for the hundredth time. "If only to distract him while you come up with something to do."

"You're the only one that can pull off a passable imitation of me, Havoc."

"What does Hawkeye say about this insane plan of yours?"

"_She_ knows it's the only way to get this done."

"Let me rephrase that, sir. How does she _feel_ about it?"

A long pause where Havoc could see the Colonel shift uncomfortably. "She doesn't like leaving you alone out there without me to keep an eye on you," he said softly after a while.

"That makes two of us."

This time the pause was even longer, darker, and sadder. Roy's jaw tightened before he nodded once, curtly. "You have your orders."


	15. Destruction

**Destruction**

Roy hurt in so many places that he couldn't think straight. He felt like he had been pounded and cut by an overzealous butcher. _Which I have_, he though with a glimmer of his old, dry humor.

The one time that he had tried to move ended with a shriek of pain so bad that the doctors sedated him. He still felt fuzzy from the drugs and the pain didn't help any either.

He opened his eye blearily. It was the only movement that didn't hurt – even breathing was tough now.

A blurred, familiar figure stood at the foot of his bed, disheveled and mortally exhausted. Dark rings had settled under glazed sapphire. A confident mouth had twisted into a cruel line. Skin had turned an unhealthy shade of ash.

Roy's eye widened, appalled. _Combat fatigue – he was fighting against friends, comrades, men he commanded in Ishbar... they trusted one another..._

Havoc's shaking hand saluted bittersweetly, and he turned away from Roy. But no door opened and shut, no footsteps echoed down hollow halls.


	16. Dahlias

**Dahlias**

"I thought you were dead, you know," Roy said conversationally, leaning on his cane. God, how he hated that thing!

"Really. What gave you that idea?"

"Jean, you can look at me, you know. I won't take offense if you stare. Lord knows I do it every time I look in a mirror."

Nothing like a dance with Death to change a man's attitude about everything important. The first time it had frozen him into an icicle. Now, he seemed to have nicely thawed out.

Havoc snorted, looking up from his hospital bed. "I'm looking at you now. I even think I may be staring. What made you think I was dead?"

Roy rested a bandaged hand on the messy mop of blonde hair. "A particularly bad hallucination. You looked like hell."

"I felt like hell." Havoc made a face. "The only reason why I'm still in this over-sanitized pit is that the psychiatrists think I'm suffering from post-traumatic stress."

"I brought you some flowers," Roy said, almost shyly. "I didn't know what you liked, and I didn't think roses fit the occasion. The dahlias just came in, and I thought you might like some of those."

Havoc grinned. "Those will do just fine."


	17. Drunk

**Drunk**

"Oh, no, you've been drinking again."

Havoc watched as Roy carefully set down the shotglass. "Yes, I have," the Brigadier General said slowly. "With all I've been through, I think I'm perfectly entitled to get screaming drunk and pass out on the floor."

Havoc leaned over, swooping up the bottle. "Whisky? How soon are you willing to end your life, Roy?" He screwed the cap back on, wrinkling his nose at the scent of raw alcohol.

"It was like this in Ishbar, too," Roy said, getting unsteadily to his feet. "Except it was Maes who helped me up and two people who didn't deserve to die bleeding on the floor." His one good eye squinted. "You don't look like Maes."

"And Bradley certainly wasn't the Rockbells." Havoc caught the black-haired man as he wobbled and started to fall.

"M'm... you smell warmer than Maes does," Roy murmured dreamily into Havoc's front. "I think I like this better."


	18. Dumbfounded

**Dumbfounded**

Havoc stared, absolutely and totally in shock. "Come again?"

"I'm getting married," Roy repeated patiently.

"Guh..." It was the only sound he could intelligently make while digesting this unexpected bombshell. So far, he was pretty sure it was giving him severe indigestion. So he tried again. "Roy –"

Roy smiled his patented, incandescent smirk. "Come on, Jean, what did you expect? I'm a highly-ranked member of this military organization, and I can't very well be a confirmed bachelor for the rest of my life."

"It's never stopped us before," Havoc muttered sourly, feeling betrayed.

The smirk turned pitying. "You're just a captain. You wouldn't understand."

Havoc shot him a glare so foul it would have peeled paint at fifty feet. "That's a shitty ulterior motive. Give me another one."

"I wanted to piss you off?"

"That, I'll believe." His fountain pen tapped a furious beat against his desk. He so very longed to throw the sharp, pointy object at Roy, but he controlled himself.

He was quite surprised when he felt Roy's arms curl around his shoulders and the man's warm breath against his ear. "April Fools, Jean."


	19. Dessert

**Dessert**

Havoc leaned back comfortably in the chair, watching Roy. Even when the man ate, he was elegant. Not that it particularly bothered him; he just found it amusing and entertaining to watch.

Roy looked up, an eyebrow cocked suspiciously. "You're not eating, Jean."

Havoc picked a bit at his piecrust. "I'm having more fun watching you."

The eyebrow twitched. "There are so many things I could say to that, but I believe I'll refrain."

Havoc grinned outright at that. "Are you losing your temper?" he teased.

Roy's remaining black eye dropped. "No."

"Good. Now, be a good boy and finish your cake."

The eye came up, a particular glint in it. "If I don't?"

"You're going to be sleeping on the couch tonight," he replied without missing a beat.

"You can't do that," Roy said petulantly. "I'm your superior officer."

"And you've basically moved into _my_ apartment," Havoc pointed out. "So finish your dessert, and maybe we can find something a little... sweeter for you..."


	20. Deserving

**Deserving**

Havoc stared out his window, watching the sunrise over the buildings of Central. Maybe a wistful sigh escaped, because Roy was at his side in an instant, arms around his bare torso.

"Something wrong?" the smaller man asked, voice husky from sleep.

"M'm... no. I'm just thinking..."

"Uh-oh," Roy said into the middle of his back. "That can't be good for your health."

"Shut up." Both men lapsed into a comfortable silence, content to just be alone together.

"M'mm... Jean?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't think I deserve you."

He snorted. "Damn right. No one deserves to have me inflicted on them."

"That's not what I meant...!"

"Well, what did you mean?"

"You know full well, Jean." Arms hugged tighter around his middle. "I meant that you're just something special, and you deserve a wife who can make you happy..."

"Roy, the only person I need, want, or deserve is you."


	21. Departure

**Departure**

"They're giving me leave," Havoc groaned. "And, as happy as I am to get it, I don't wanna go..."

Roy supposed it was too much to hope that Havoc wanted to stay because of him –

"My mother's gonna kill me," Havoc said, thunking his head down onto his desk.

"That had to hurt," Roy remarked.

"Shut up."

"Why are you so unwilling to go?"

"My mother is the dragon of the Havoc clan. Jesus, she'll kill me..." His head started rhythmically thunking onto the desk.

"Why? Don't do that, you'll give yourself a migraine."

"Well, why not? She's going to bitch me out because I helped lead a rebellion against an established government, never mind the fact that I managed to get promoted for it..."

"I don't get it."

"I'll say it in small words then. She's going to be pissed that I helped throw Amistris into anarchy, even if it was only for three months."

"She knows about that?"

Havoc threw something small and hard at Roy without even bothering to look. A small, winded 'ouf' rewarded him. "Yes, idiot General, she knows. Everyone knows. You're the only one that hasn't seemed to realize that you're a celebrity. And I've ended up being your lapdog."

"That would explain quite a few things, Captain ..."


	22. Destination

**Destination**

Havoc hated sleeper trains with a passion. He hated them even more when his mother had tanned his hide, stuffed him full of good food, and then proceeded to cuddle him in the train station, calling him 'Mama's white-headed boy', nevermind the fact that he was nearly twice her size.

But he absolutely _loathed_ them when there was a noticeable absence of Roy to make it all bearable.

_Damn,_ he thought, getting off the train, dragging his duffle. _I'm getting attached to the bastard. That's the last thing I should be doing... he's a General now, I'm still a captain, I'm under him, he's a womanizing bastard... wait a minute._ That was a thought, now. In the long while since the whole Bradley issue had blown over (ten months and twenty days, to be exact, which would make the incident more than a year past now), he hadn't seen Roy so much as look at any woman besides Liza. And Major Hawkeye was as stridently sexless as she could be. So much that way that it was almost scary.

But still, the last thing he should ever, _ever_ had considered doing was getting attached to the man. For all he knew, it was just convenient for Mustang. For all he knew, he was just a stand-in for –

Oh, hell. He shouldn't have thought that. He had to give Mustang more credit than that.

Did he? That was the entire problem, he decided. He didn't know where things stood between him and Mustang. He didn't really know how honest Mustang was being with him. And Jean _always_ put a high value on honesty in personal dealings.


	23. Disturbed

**Disturbed**

Roy was now thoroughly worried. Jean was suspiciously silent, had been so for a week. If he didn't know better, he'd say his Captain was... actually... _gloomy_. The man wasn't even smoking and hadn't cracked a grin for some time.

So Roy was both worried and disturbed. He didn't think it was possible for Jean's mother to cow the man so completely that he forgot to be himself.

His eyebrows twitched together as Havoc entered the office. The poor man looked almost grey; exhausted, like he had spent too many hours worrying about something. And Roy didn't particularly want to know what it was that had kept Jean up at night... even though... they hadn't even _spoken_ for five days, much less camping out in the same apartment. Which he actually kind of missed. Two weeks of being celibate was tough on a man who –

He blinked. Something inside was clamoring to get his attention, and he had a sneaking feeling that it had something to do with the finish of that sentence and why Jean looked so goddamned horrible. Deciding that exploring that particular thread of thought would be more interesting than paperwork, he bent his formidable intelligence to the task.

He was so long in thinking that he completely missed the fact that Major Hawkeye had actually asked _his_ Jean Havoc out on a date.


	24. Desertion

**Desertion**

"Are you sure this is such a good idea?" Havoc asked Hawk– er, _Liza_.

"We'll be fine," she said, liquid calm. She glanced sideways at him, a smile hovering just off her lips. "After all, you've been doing this with General Mustang for years now, haven't you?"

Havoc _heek_ed, turning bright red. "How the hell do you _do_ that?!"

This time, the smile stuck. "Mustang. His body gets stiff and possessive if _anyone_ talks to you. You... you're hard to read like that, actually. Stupidity masking intelligence, perhaps?"

He had to stand there for a minute, trying to figure out if she meant that as a compliment or not. He finally gave up. "Liza, I have no idea how this is going to work," he said honestly.

"Neither do I. It was more of a spur-of-the-moment thing. Temporary insanity if you like."

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

"But seriously, Jean, if you ever need someone to help you feel better, or someone to help make Mustang jealous –"

"Oh?"

She grinned outright. "He's becoming too big for his britches, and what am I here for but to cut him down to size?"

"Point."

The wandered off across the park together, Liza's head resting on Jean's shoulder.


	25. Definition

**Definition**

"Alphonse?" Liza's voice was surprised. Havoc couldn't resist looking up to see the shock stamped against his friend-with-benefits' face. "What are you doing here?"

Al shrugged, grey-gold eyes frank. "Just thought I'd stop by and say hello. Research is going well, and Master Izumi's decided I should take a break."

Havoc waved, grinning. "Well, take a seat. The General's out for today, and we're having a party."

"Some party," Al retorted. He drifted closer, hands brushing a card deck. "Gambling in office hours? I'm pretty sure that that's against some rule."

"So we're going to break it," Breda chimed in cheerfully. "We asked Ross and Broche over, so you'll be able to say hi to them, too."

"Besides, kid, what's your definition of 'rule-breaking' anyway?" Havoc snagged the deck and began shuffling. "If it's doing things you shouldn't do while your commanding officer is away, well, then, what's the point of having fun?"

"Havoc, shut up," Liza said, but without a bite in her voice. Yes indeedy, last night had gotten her sufficiently mellow. "Either that, or I'll let Black Hyate play with you."

Okay, maybe not _that_ mellow.


	26. Dent

**Dent**

Mustang was having a temper tantrum. And Havoc just stood there, a grin on his face. Completely unrepentant. "Calm down, General."

"And _you_!" Mustang hissed, leveling a gloved finger. "Why didn't you tell me you were dating Hawkeye, of all people?!"

"Wasn't needed. I knew you'd figure out sooner or later."

"A better question would be why the hell are you dating her?!"

H'm. Good question, actually. "Felt like it?"

Havoc was far too well trained by half. He didn't even twitch when Mustang's hand slammed down on his desk with a very final crunch. "Jean, when the hell will you learn that I'm entirely unwilling to share you with someone?!"

"I'm pretty slow on the uptake," Havoc pointed out. That did not help the tantrum at all.

Several words that couldn't be printed were actually roared at the casual blonde.

Havoc just ignored him. At a breath in the diatribe, Havoc spoke up: "Are you finished yet?"

_That_ caused Mustang to choke on his own words. "Jean..!"

"Look, what's wrong with you? Why are _you_ yelling at _me_? For all I know, you're using me as a stand-in for Ed or Maes."

Roy collapsed back in his chair, absolutely stunned and appalled. "You... actually _thought_ that?"

"That's pretty much what I said, yes."

"How? Why? I don't..." _I don't understand_...

"Neither do I. I don't understand how you could want me the way you do unless you were trying to bury something."

Roy's mouth worked silently for a few seconds. "Why?"


	27. Dread

**Dread**

Roy Mustang rested his chin on his gloved fist. His bad eye was hurting, which _always_ happened when he got frustrated, angry, confused, or...

Or what?

Jean's accusation shouldn't have hurt that badly, because it just wasn't true! It had never been true. The man had caught his eye during the Ishbar war. So what if his eyes had roved before and since? It's not like he had been using Jean as a replacement for people he'd lost.

Why was Jean suffering from such a godawful inferiority complex, anyway? What had triggered that?

He glanced at the clock. H'm. 7:30 PM. Jean would be home by now...

His hand reached for the phone, but he decided that it would probably be better to see the man face-to-face.

A short time later, he was climbing the stairs to Jean's apartment, knocking gently on the door and hearing a sleepy voice say "Come in..."

Roy entered, cocking an eyebrow at the chaos inside. History books were scattered around like a hurricane had hit, random bits of paperwork spread on his coffeetable and desk, Jean himself draped across his overstuffed armchair, apparently half asleep.

"Haven't you ever thought of getting a maid, Jean?"

"Mnr... too expensive." The blonde yawned cavernously. "Now go away; I'm sleepy."

"I'm sorry..." Not about disturbing the man's rest but about the rest of it... Jean seemed to understand.

"I made coffee. Help yourself."


	28. Dispute

**Dispute**

Havoc walked in to the office and encountered a curious sight. Liza and Roy had their heads together, murmuring about something. Farman, Fury, and Breda pretended to ignore the goings on.

"Did I miss something?" he asked, setting down a stack of paperwork he had picked up at the Administration front.

"Shh!" Farman hissed. "They're –"

Liza let out a sound of triumph while Roy sagged comically.

"Major Hawkeye, your dice have to be loaded," Roy grumped.

"If they were loaded, then you would have gotten the same as me," she said demurely.

"What were they rolling for?" Havoc asked Fury.

"You," the young man said gloomily.

Oh, now _this_ was too surreal. He was about ready to open his mouth when Roy said, "All right, Lieutenant, but I get him today."

Farman patted a freaked-out Havoc sympathetically on the back. "It's not like we didn't know anyway..."

The blonde growled and turned, laying Farman out cold with a well-aimed punch to the chin.


	29. Daisy

**Daisy**

"Flowers?" Liza asked somewhat dubiously, glancing up at Havoc. He shrugged and grinned boyishly.

"For the lady of my dreams?" He pressed the flowers into the woman's hand, sweeping an elegant bow and kissing her hand.

"Right. I'll remember that when the General kicks up a fuss about you giving me flowers."

"There's a difference between being the lady of my dreams and the man of my dreams, Liza." He straightened his tie. "Now, I believe that we're on a Valentine's date?"

"Don't push it too far, Captain," she said warningly.

"Wouldn't dream of it. May I say that you look absolutely stunning in red?"

"Captain..."

"Of course, of course. I must be forgetting my manners."

"Like you ever had any..."

"I'm wounded, Liza." He contrived to give her his most cutely innocent expression.

"Like the way a brick is wounded..."


	30. Death

**Death**

Roy stood on a narrow spear of rock overlooking one of the many small, nameless cities in Ishbar. It was nighttime – the military preferred that their alchemists strike under the cover of darkness. Not like most of them couldn't be tracked anyway.

Command had spared a sparse squad for his protection. The sergeant was less than happy about protecting an alchemist, but had gone to do his duty nonetheless. Roy felt vaguely flattered.

So now he was standing at the tip of the overhang, watching lights flick out through the town. He felt cold sapphire eyes on his back and the skin between his shoulder-blades rippled uncomfortably.

A shot rang, coupled with muffled cursing. A firefight broke out.

Slowly, he turned, not wanting to help. His hand came up, poised to snap... then a bullet zinged past, a tall, rangy body slammed into his, knocking him down to the hard rock.

"Stay put," a harsh voice hissed. "You're a fucking walking bull'seye, so keep your head down." The man was gone in an instant, pouncing cat-like away from the prone alchemist. The heat was gone, the comfort was gone, but the memory of the hissed command and the stirring of warm breath against his ear stayed. His skin pricked again, but for a vastly different reason.

Judging from the voices speaking in the fluid Amestrian dialect that Ishbarites used, they had lost. A bayonet poked him in the side, and even through he was wearing thick wool and cotton, he could feel the rusted edge of the iron.

"Dead?"

"Probably. I think the first shot got him."

Frozen in horror and fear, he went even limper. He swore to himself then and there, that he would never kill anyone unless he deemed it absolutely necessary if he got out of this war alive.

A yelp and two thuds later, he felt calloused, though gentle, hands help him up. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

Roy looked into cool blue eyes and shook his head mutely.

The blonde head nodded curtly. "Good. Command would have my head on a plate if you were so much as scratched."

Roy managed to croak out: "What about your men?"

"A few broken bones, a few bullet wounds, a few slashes. Nothing new."

Then he notices the man favoring an arm and a leg. "You're hurt..."

"At least I'm alive."


	31. Decadent

**Decadent**

Havoc toed his boots off and stripped the uniform jacket off. With a sigh of profound relief , he sank into a leather-upholstered armchair.

"That's _my_ chair," Roy said petulantly. Havoc sniffed and grinned when he smelled coffee.

"Of course it is. But I'm commandeering it for right now, and you're not getting me out."

"I don't think I could get you out if I tried," Roy said, black eye glimmering. He handed the blonde man a mug. "You're stubborn like that."

Havoc snorted. Sipping his coffee, he regarded the smaller man. "Yes, I know. I heard you ranting to Al of all people about how I was annoying, stubborn maniac."

"I didn't quite say that –"

"No, but close enough." He leaned forward, snaking an arm around Roy's waist and pulling him down onto his lap. "I don't think I can repeat some of the words you used." His grin gentled and he nuzzled Roy's ear.

"M'm... I didn't say anything too horrible. After all, Al's just a child."

"But you said it loudly and emphatically, and it's the thought that counts."

Roy dropped an affectionate kiss onto Havoc's lips. "Shall I share what thoughts I'm having right now, or just let it go?"


	32. Depression

**Depression**

Roy had never before realized that Jean had a physical/psychological disorder. In Ishbar it never really came up and the blonde had always somehow managed to disguise it during the winter.

But here Jean was, huddled by the fire on a drab, rainy day. Not even coffee could cheer the man up.

"Jean?" Roy knelt by the man. "Jean, are you all right?"

"M'fine," the man said dully.

"No, you're not. What's the matter?" He ran his fingers through his lover's messy tumble of hair. "Can't you tell me?"

"I told you, I'll be fine at some point. When the weather clears, probably."

"Probably?"

"It's a psychological disorder." Jean curled tighter, huddling up against the sofa. "It's... it doesn't really matter. It's not much of a problem."

Roy allowed his fingers to start rubbing the back of Jean's neck, releasing a lot of pent-up tension. "M'mm... five days of administrative hell, six days of worse weather..."

"You're almost as good as Hawkeye with the whole 'second sight' bit."

"What? Did I actually get something right?"

Jean transferred his attentions from the sofa to Roy, winding his arms around his middle and burying his face in his chest. "Can we just stay like this for a bit?"


	33. Desperate

**Desperate**

"It makes sense that only we would be stuck helping refugees," a twenty-two-year-old replacement griped.

Havoc nodded at one of the Sergeants under him. The pale, pale man whirled on the sod and started cussing him out something good.

Havoc just tuned it all out, watching the long, ragged line of sodden, frightened people. Unnatural weather patterns had alchemists, military, and citizens worried, and the torrential rain so swelled the oceans that several cities and villages were either under the threat of flood or actually flooded.

A small child ran up, crying, and attached herself to his knees. "Mama! Mama!"

His eyebrows twitched together and he knelt, trying to disentangle her. "Shh, it's okay kiddo," he said gently.

The girl looked up, wide brown eyes scared. "Have you seen my mama?!"

"No, I haven't. But you're soaked. We should get you into something that'll keep you from catching a fever."

"But it's still raining and I have to find my mama!"

He let go of the child just long enough to yank his slicker over his head. The thing was lined with wool and would keep the girl warm enough for the time being. "Well, my guess is that your mama is probably in the camp, waiting for you to come home to her," he said, draping the squirt in the poncho. He grinned: the thing was a tent on her. "So I have to get you back there dry and one piece, don't I?"

The girl held out her arms. "Carry?" she asked hopefully.

"Certainly." He leaned down, picking her up and settling her on his hip. He nodded at his second-in-command. "Hey, Palse, I'm going to see if I can find this girl's mother. Keep the recruits from griping so much, will you?"

Palse saluted. "Gotcha, Havoc."

The duo wandered off into the general direction of the refugee camp. In the process of getting from point A to point C, Havoc learned some interesting things: namely, the girl's _dog_ was named Havoc. He didn't know whether to feel amused or something else.

They reached the camp, set on high ground, filled with tents and warm things to eat and wrap around oneself.

"I'm sorry," he overheard another captain telling Roy. "The entire village was wiped out. Only the children got out, we think, but we're missing a young girl named Briar."

Havoc felt something inside his chest constrict. Briar was a unique name. And he was pretty sure the girl asleep in his arms would never, ever get to see her mama again.


	34. Devastation

**Devastation**

"It's a mess," Mustang said in his most colorless, professional voice. "I'll be sending a few alchemists to help you with the business of rescue and damage assessment."

"Thanks." He regarded the dark-haired man. "How's Briar doing?"

"She's still scared. It's hard for children, when they're that age."

He nodded. "I know, Mustang. Believe me, I know."

"And..." There was a curious little hitch in the man's voice. "Medics are saying that's she really sick. Tuberculosis, pneumonia, influenza. Unless something's done soon, I don't think she'll be able to survive."

Havoc sighed, horribly depressed, yet only feeling it distantly. "It's a pity when they're that young."

"I know..."

The two men spent a long while silently and sadly looking out at the wreck that had been Briar's village. That's how Havoc still thought of it, even though the name was technically Liengenstadt.

"Why?" Havoc asked suddenly. "Why were so many people hurt?"

Mustang jumped at the slightly harsh question. "Are you blaming me?"

"No. I'm... I don't know who I'm blaming. There just has to be a reason for all of this."


	35. Distraction

**Distraction**

"_NO_, I don't care if the 'General' is working! I'm going to kick my way in there if you don't let me through, Hawkeye!"

Havoc looked up. "Liza, is that who I think it is?"

"If you're thinking the older Elric brother, you're right," the woman said grimly.

"Then this has to be a dream..."

"No, unfortunately, it isn't."

"You're talking about me, I can tell!"

"Shut up, Ed," Havoc growled, his patience spooling out rapidly. "Mustang's out for the day in a refugee camp. Go attack him there, but I doubt he'll be happy about it."

Maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was just the absolutely foul way he glared, but both of the other blondes stepped back, startled.

"Jean, it's Briar, isn't it?"

"She died this morning," he said shortly, going back to his work. "Her funeral's tomorrow."

"I'm... sorry," Liza said, gently touching Havoc's shoulder. "I know how much you cared for her."

"It doesn't matter," he said roughly. "Just get out of here for now."


	36. Dedication

**Dedication**

"So Fullmetal's back," Roy remarked, shedding his overcoat.

"Yeah..." Havoc didn't feel like doing anything except leaning his forehead against the window.

"Jean?" He felt Roy's hand on the back of his neck. "Oh. It's Briar, isn't it."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't still be moping about that –"

"Yes you should," Roy said firmly. "Seeing a little girl die from disease is a lot harder than seeing a fully grown man die for something he believes in." Havoc felt him press a kiss against the back of his neck. "It's admirable that you feel so responsible for her."

"She called me 'Daddy'," he said softly.

Roy's mouth stretched into a gentle smile. "And you're the ideal man for being someone's father," he agreed. "It's your loyalty and dedication, Jean..."

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Thank you time!

Torii: I think you're my biggest reader! Thanks for sticking by from day one! (and no, you can't have Jean, Roy has express ownership of the man. (wah))

blackAURA;sama: You can't be _corrupted_ into Roy/Havoc. It's just a natural occurrence. XD

Guu-sama: April Fool's wasn't supposed to be scary, it was supposed to be funny! I guess that Roy would be that kind of man, though...

DarkWarLordofDoomness: Kya! I hope I did better this time, Sensei!

sketchyheart: Thanks for your compliments. And the April Fools wasn't supposed to be like that! It was a gag! (Oh, by the way, I _love_ Champagne Kisses!)

The Raven's Wings: See? See? I updated! Hope you like the last few!

If you liked _Sapphire and Onyx_, keep checking back for the second installment: _Amber, Sapphire, and Onyx_!


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